Wishful
by Sapsorrow86
Summary: Magical things aren't supposed to happen to poor, lame spinners. Wishes never come true. Chipped cups, however, would beg to differ. A.k.a. Genie!Belle fic. Second part should be up in a week or so.
1. Part One

Rumplestiltskin had been taking herds of sheep to graze in the fields since he was a wee boy. The task had become second nature, allowing his mind to wonder while a part of him remained alert and aware of the flock and its movements. But his mind was not a happy place, always full of worry about everything, from food and clothing to the looming threat of the Ogre Wars. His Bae was almost ten, still too young to be sent to war, but the battlegrounds grew closer and closer and the duke couldn't be bothered to protect their miserable little village. He lived in a state of constant fear over his boy, so young and full of promise. He deserved much better than the lot he got, but there was little the spinner could do about it other than work his fingers to the bone, sleep little and eat even less so he could give Bae a chance, even a small one.

A sheep bleated noisily, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. The spinner patted the old animal, whose wool was getting stringy and coarse, and decided to try and look for mushrooms. It was the season for them, and Bae loved them to pieces. While the sheep drank from the stream he picked up the mushrooms, his back protesting as he bent down to peer closely at the dirt and grass. He had a sizeable amount of shrooms, enough for a nice stew, when he caught the glimmer of something in the water. He approached cautiously, using his cane to keep his balance as he plunged a hand into the stream, grasping a cold, smooth object. When he managed to pull it out he saw it was a lovely teacup, tiny and perfect. It was white as marble, with gold on the rim and a delicate pattern in deep blue. Save for a notable chip it was in perfect condition, looking as if it was brand new. In all of his life Rumple had never seen something so beautiful, so gleaming and refined. He'd found a treasure.

With utmost care he wrapped the teacup in an old but clean rag and put it inside his satchel, eager to get back home and show Bae. The rest of the day seemed to drag on but at last the sun sunk low enough and he herded the sheep back to his little cottage on the outskirts of the village. It was a place reserved for outcasts, a place he'd earned, and certainly not somewhere Bae should be, but it was all he had to offer. Most days the sight of his home filled him with shame but carrying food and treasures he felt nothing but happiness. He greeted Bae with exuberance, taking the boy in his arms and lifting him for a hug, bracing himself against the pain, enjoying the way the boy laughed at being swung in the air.

"Who wants mushroom stew for dinner?"

Bae raised both hands in the air, smiling brilliantly. His father laughed, ruffling the boy's hair before placing the satchel on the threadbare table near the fire, opening it with care to take out the mushrooms and the tiny cup. It took ten minutes to have the stew simmering on the fire, so Rumplestiltskin took advantage of the free time to pull the cup out, unwrapping it to make sure it'd survived the trip unscathed. The light of the fire made it look even more fragile and precious and Baelfire's eyes opened wide when he spotted it.

"What's that, papa? Is it a chalice? Like the ones kings drink from?"

The utter awe in his voice both pleased and hurt the spinner. On the one hand he was proud to have stumbled upon something that would captivate his son so, on the other it was painful to see him so struck by something as ordinary as a teacup, albeit a fine one.

"It's a cup, Bae. A fancy cup, to drink from. People usually use it to drink tea."

It was even more mortifying to have to explain the concept of tea to Bae- "You mean some people eat just hours before supper?"- but the boy didn't seem to mind, holding the cup gently and carefully and deeming it the prettiest thing in the whole of the realms. He barely paid attention to his meal when his papa served it to him, wolfing down the stew while holding the cup with one hand.

The cup became their secret treasure. Bae would polish it diligently and carefully set it atop the fireplace. Rumplestiltskin grew attached to the delicate little thing as well, sometimes picking it up and tracing its delicate gold rim and wondering about who it had belonged to. His mind conjured up images of a faceless beauty with chestnut hair and skin like porcelain, as exquisite as the cup itself. He often chided himself for his silly musings but didn't actively tried to stop them. It was nice, for a while, to escape the confines of his poor existence and dream of far more pleasant things.

But as nice as daydreaming was, real life still needed tending to, and the spinner spent most of his day with his flock and the rest of it at his spinning wheel, working at his craft well into the night. It was on a particularly tiring night that he got up from his stool, sore and stiff, to fetch a cup of water. As he looked for his used wooden cup he spotted the bone-china one, gleaming in the light of the fire. He'd never drank out of anything so fine, and he could bet the water would even seem to taste better from it. Following an odd sort of whimsy he filled the cup with water and took a sip.

He noticed the smoke when he placed the cup on the table. It swirled around, seeming at first black but then diluting into a heavy blue. It looked like it was going to encompass the entire shack, but soon it began to shrink and condense into a tangible figure. After it disappeared the spinner came face to face with a stranger, a woman with long, chestnut hair pulled back by an array of combs and falling in loose curls down her back and attired in gold and blue. The clothes covered her chest and legs, baring her stomach, neck and arms but for a few bangles and a heavy necklace of pearls and sapphires. The fabric seemed spun from gold trimmed in vibrant blue that matched the apparition's eyes. Almost immediately Rumplestiltskin drew his gaze to the floor, feeling his cheeks reddening. He'd never seen so much skin uncovered before. Milah had been a shy bride, keeping her chemise on at all times and after Bae she hadn't allowed him to touch her anymore, her shyness turning to hatred and disdain.

"Hello, master."

She had a cultured, beautiful voice, with a slight accent he didn't recognize. Tentatively he raised his eyes, looking at her from under his lashes. She had her head tilted to the side, studying him as attentively as he was her. There wasn't anything threatening about her, in spite of the ominous blue cloud from which she'd emerged. She seemed to exude light and wonder.

"M-m-master?"

He turned around, looking to see if she might be talking to someone else. There was only Bae, tucked into a corner of the room on a straw pallet, deeply asleep. When he glanced back at the beauty she'd come impossibly close, so close he could smell the heady scent of her, vanilla and spices. Slowly, carefully, she laid both her palms over his chest, above his stuttering heart.

"Master," she repeated, smiling softly.

She felt warm, her skin soft as it touched his where his tunic had come undone to reveal more of his chest than what was usually on display. Her eyes were lined with heavy kohl, and there was a faint dusting of gold near her temples, above her shoulders and on other parts of her body. She was smaller than him, which was rare, and incredibly soft-looking. So distracting, in fact, that it took him an embarrassing amount of time to process the situation.

"You think I'm your master?"

He was trembling slightly, the adrenaline rush he'd gotten from all that bluish smoke coming out of the cup starting to wear off. The woman took both his hands in hers and tugged him towards a ratty chair, where he gladly let himself fall. She then slid her hands underneath his jaw to tilt his head up.

"You found the cup." He nodded dumbly. "You drank from it." Another nod. "That makes you my master per the rules that bind me as a genie. Congratulations."

There was something oddly sad about the way she'd said the last word but the spinner couldn't quite concentrate on it, busy as he was trying not to pass out. It felt as if air refused to enter his lungs no matter how much he struggled to breathe in and out. It was a relief when he finally got the gist of it.

"I'm sorry?"

He was sure he was coming across as some bumbling peasant but he couldn't quite help himself. Nothing made sense. He'd found a cup on a stream, had drank from it and next thing he knew a beautiful half-naked woman was calling him master and smiling prettily at him.

"I know it must be confusing. The cup is enchanted. I live in it, so to speak, and can only come out when my master has need of me. Drinking from the cup is the way I'm summoned."

"That's ridiculous."

The spinner felt like slapping himself, but it was too late. Surprisingly the woman laughed, sinking to her knees so she could peer up at him.

"It is. Are you feeling better, master?"

Every time she called him that a surge of something would travel up and down his spine, making him shudder.

"Please, don't call me that."

She didn't seem to think him rude, for which he was glad, merely nodding and smiling.

"Alright. How should I call you? I'm Belle."

Even his lowly peasant self knew enough of the highborn dialect to know Belle meant beautiful. And she certainly was. Her eyes in particular were almost hypnotic, a shade of blue he'd never seen before. But it was her expression, so open and warm, that drew him in the most.

"Rumplestiltskin."

It was a mouthful, the cause of childhood jeers and even adult laughter, but it was the only name he had to offer her. She repeated it several times, somehow making it sound… more.

"It's lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for taking me out of the cup. I don't enjoy forced sleep very much."

He nodded, as if he understood anything she was telling him, and gestured vaguely to the only other chair in the room, watching as she gathered her golden skirts and sat down gently. It was then that he noticed she was bare-foot, though he spied an anklet of pure gold peeking from beneath her hemline. Her nails were, oddly, painted a bright blue with a dusting of gold.

"I… I imagine you must have lots of questions so I'll try to explain as best I can. My name is Belle and I'm the genie of the cup. You're now my master and so I must grant you anything you wish and is within my power." Her smile vanished a bit and so he struggled to pay close attention to her next words. "But be careful, for all magic comes at a price, and wishes are not cheap. I've granted many wishes in my lifetime, and seldom have any ended happily."

Her voice was soft, but there was a definitely warning as she stressed the last part of her speech. Rumplestiltskin nodded to let her know he'd heard her, trying to digest everything at once.

"So… I found a chipped cup and drank from it and somehow that means you must grant me all the wishes I want?" She nodded. "That doesn't sound right. I must be dreaming."

Yes, it made sense. He must've fallen asleep on the stool, against the old spinning wheel like hundreds of times before. He'd never had such a lucid, fantastic dream, of course, but he'd been thinking an awful lot about that cup during the day. It was only natural for it to translate into his dreams.

"This is the strangest dream I've ever had…" He stood up, running a hand through his hair as he shuffled towards the bed.

"Is there something you wish? Something I could help you with?"

She sounded confused, and a bit apprehensive, and for a moment Rumplestiltskin thought to prolong his dream, talk to her a bit more, enjoy her before she disappeared with the light of day. But it was silly to encourage a flight of fancy, silly and stupid.

"Just make yourself comfortable in the room, that's all I wish."

He curled up on his tiny cot, his back to her so he faced the wall, and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't cold and hungry.

"Papa, who is she? She's so pretty!"

Bae's voice woke him up, curious and excited. He carded a hand through his hair and snuggled deeper into the cot, unwilling to wake up. He was warm and comfortable, his front pressing up against something soft that smelled like vanilla and exotic spices, and wanted to relish the feeling for a while longer.

"Five more minutes, Bae."

Usually he was up at the crack of dawn, before his son even stirred, but this time he didn't wish to relinquish his unusually-cosy nest of ratty blankets and… embroidered silk?

"Who's the pretty lady, papa?"

Bae's words finally registered and Rumplestiltskin jumped in surprise, landing rather noisily on the floor, tangled up in threadbare sheets and a gossamer fabric embroidered with bright blue, shimmering thread and gemstones. He took a moment to catch his breath, his back aching and his injured ankle throbbing. After a while he dared glance up to the bed, where a very real, and more scantily-clad-than-before genie was looking down at him, worry in her blue eyes.

"Are you alright, master?"

He sputtered a nonsensical reply, trying to connect the dots and figure out the situation. Meanwhile the woman rose from the bed, jingling from the many bangles and beads sewn into her clothes and ran a hand softly through Bae's dishevelled hair before coming up to him and bending down to help him up.

"I'm sorry, I forgot I'm not supposed to call you that. Are you hurt?"

She inspected him carefully, resting her hands on his shoulders in a way that made him nervous. Beside them Bae flitted about, ever-curious.

"You're not a dream. You're real." She nodded patiently, apparently waiting for him to finish taking stock of the situation. "You slept with me."

She ducked her head, suddenly shy somewhat, and looked up at him from under her lashes.

"You wished for me to get comfortable. Your cot was the most comfortable place inside the cottage. I'm sorry."

She seemed to mean it, the blush blooming in her cheeks a clear indicator of it. He apologized profusely, trying not to stare directly at her. She'd covered him with the fabric that had been covering part of her front at some point in the night, leaving her with only her chest and legs covered. Seeming to understand his discomfort the woman quickly and efficiently wrapped the fabric around herself in such a way that it formed a sort-of dress, with enough coverage for the spinner to stop looking at the floor when in her presence. He shakily gestured to the table, both of them sitting once more and repeating the conversation from the night before, with Bae commenting excitedly around them as he offered the genie water or some of their embarrassingly stale-bread. She politely declined the bread, but accepted the water and drank greedily, as if she hadn't had water in years. Father and son watched her avidly as she drank cup after cup, managing to look both refined and desperate.

"So… you're a genie?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Your genie now. For as long as you own the cup."

It was impossible. Those sorts of things happened in stories about knights, princesses and heroes, not to very real and very lame spinners. It made no sense for the Fates to suddenly decide to stop plying him with bad luck and misery. Much less to give him… Belle.

"And we get to make all the wishes we want?"

Baelfire had calmed down quite a bit, his demeanour turning serious when he asked about the wishes. Belle turned to look at him.

"There are things even beyond the power that was entrusted to me but I am capable of great feats. I must warn you, though, Master Baelfire, that all magic comes at a price and someone has to pay it. It's the law that governs magic."

She was gentle but firm as she stressed her point and the spinner had an inkling that, even though she was talking to his son, she was acutely aware that he was listening too. His boy nodded solemnly and the genie smiled down at him, ruffling his hair in a way that had him smiling. Bae was usually skittish around adults, no doubt because they usually treated him with contempt, but he seemed quite taken with Belle, all shy smiles and puppy eyes. He could see the beginnings of the lad's first crush appear.

"It sounds like a mistake. I'm just a lame spinner, what business do I have with magic cups and genies?"

It felt almost sacrilegious to think he held power over one such as Belle. For all her kindness and sunny disposition she was also of high birth. It was obvious in the way she moved and spoke, the way she carried herself. She was clearly better than him, and the natural order of things dictated that women like Belle ordered men like Rumplestiltskin about, not the other way around.

"It's not a mistake. Try it, you'll see. Wish for something."

Years of going without, of barely scraping way, had all but killed his ability to wish for anything. Had Baelfire's stomach not grumbled loudly he was sure he'd taken forever to think of something to wish for but suddenly it was very clear.

"I wish for a lavish breakfast, with lots of fruits and pastries."

It wasn't extravagant or whimsical by any stretch of the imagination but Rumplestiltskin felt like it was a good, solid wish. Belle smiled, seeming to approve of his choice, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before blowing the air out. Blue, wispy smoke came out of her mouth, coiling and expanding, seeming to overtake the table. Then, at some point, it began to disappear, leaving an impressive array of food in its wake. From pastries, porridge, loaves of freshly-baked bread, honey, jams and a basket full to the brim of fruits, it seemed to be enough for the whole village to partake in. Baelfire's eyes grew comically large, trying to take it all in at once. He'd never starved, Rumplestiltskin had seen to it, but he'd certainly gone to bed with hardly anything in his stomach quite a few times. Once the spinner got over his initial shock he wrapped his arms around Bae, who was about to lunge at the table and no doubt bathe in the food.

"No, Bae, no. You mustn't eat too much, you'll get sick."

He served his son a bowl of porridge with a spoonful of honey to sweeten the deal.

"Here. You eat it slowly and when you finish you may have a bit of fruit and some milk. Just don't wolf it down, Bae. Please."

The boy nodded reluctantly, accepting the modest bowl with a soft "thank you" before scooping a spoonful and shoving it in his mouth. He hummed in pleasure, smiling at Belle as he swallowed.

"It's very good. Thank you Lady Belle."

The genie smiled, tilting her head to the side.

"Why do you call me lady, Master Baelfire?"

The boy shovelled two spoonful's of porridge into his mouth before answering.

"'tis obvious you're a highborn lady. Everyone could see it. I've never met one and I can."

He seemed proud of having figured out and Belle smiled down at him, combing his hair before turning her attention to the boy's father. He was staring at the spread of food with bewilderment, clearly unable to decide where to start. She took pity on him, nudging a jar of raspberry jam in his direction.

"It's quite good, I recommend it. And the bread is warm. Fresh out of the oven."

She broke a loaf in two and offered him the largest piece, which he shyly took. As she'd said the jam was wonderful and the bread heavenly. Everything, really, looked inviting, but it wasn't until he spotted the butter cookies that he realized that the breakfast selection seemed tailored to his tastes. He glanced at Belle, who was scooping out seeds from a pomegranate using a bowl of water and eating them, her natural poise somehow making the sticky, messy process look elegant. She appeared completely at ease inside their pathetic little hut, like she was content to sit on a rickety chair and share breakfast with some lowly peasants. It was then that hit him: this was real. There was a genie in his home ready to give him whatever he wanted…

He was terrified.

He was the wrong man to be given such power. He'd either waste it away of misuse it. He wasn't clever enough, or brave enough, or honourable enough. He should've never reached for that cup, or drank from it, or…

"What's wrong, master? Sorry, Rumplestiltskin. It's going to take some getting used to, I'm afraid. But you look pale. Troubled."

He watched as Bae slowly savoured the porridge and realized that it was probably the first time his boy had tasted honey. Somehow that realization made it all worse.

"I… can't be your master. I can't have that power. I wouldn't know what to do with it. I barely manage to scrape by, to provide the bare minimum for Bae. I am not… I could never…"

The genie seemed torn between giving him space and comforting him, not knowing which would be the best course of action. It was Baelfire the one to approach him and pat him gently on the shoulder, barely reaching it.

"'ts alright to be scared, papa. We'll figure it out together."

So young and yet so brave, so noble, so pure. Baelfire was like a changeling, a blessed boy mistakenly left on a poor spinner's crib. He'd help him make the right choices. Everything good about his life was somehow linked to his son, after all.

"You're right, Bae. Now go finish the porridge so you can have some strawberries."

His boy had never seen strawberries before and seemed more content to stare at them and study them than eating them. Belle laughed at the boy's antics, pouring him a glass of warm milk before fixing herself and her master some tea. He accepted the cup with shaky fingers, trying to imitate the woman's elegant manners and not simply down the hot drink in hasty gulps. It'd been years since he'd had good tea. The Ogre's war had cut off a lot of trade routes, making some goods scarce and others downright non-existent, like strawberries, a lot of spices and most fish. Tea had become a pricey commodity, completely out of his reach.

An idea began to take shape inside his head as he watched Bae paint his lips red with the berry juice and show Belle. He was still a wee lad, years away from the dangers of conscription, but already his life had been affected and limited by the Ogre Wars. He lived in an impoverished village and was the son of a coward, a deserter. He'd grow up feeling that he had something to prove and because he was brave and honourable and perfect, he'd go to battle to defend his fellow men and die pointlessly and needlessly.

He wanted better for his son. He wanted everything he deserved, all roads open for him. And he wanted children to stop being orphans, and live past their teens.

He wanted to stop the war.

He thought things over while doing his chores, after Belle had magicked away the uneaten food. He had had to drag Bae away kicking and screaming, the boy wishing to stay with the genie and keep her company. He couldn't blame the lad, part of him had wanted nothing more than to be able to linger by her side. Still the sheep needed tending, water needed to be transported from the nearby stream to the house and their meagre crop needed care.

Rumplestiltskin let Bae mostly to play with Flint, their three-legged sheepdog. He'd been born without his left hind leg to a more prosperous farmer who'd gifted the pup to Rumplestiltskin out of pity, either for the spinner or for the dog he wasn't sure. While his son chased after the animal, making sure not to startle the sheep grazing nearby, his father thought deeply about the wish brewing in his mind. It seemed to be the logical choice for a second wish, laudable enough that, perhaps, the price to pay for such magic wouldn't be as dire. And he had to admit that it'd ease his conscience, to be the instrument of victory of the war he'd ran away from. He didn't need anyone to know, it'd be enough to hold the secret inside.

Right as the sun set, before making their way back to the cottage, Rumplestiltskin presented his idea to Bae. His son mulled it over, looking very serious and focused, and finally smiled and nodded.

"It's the perfect wish. Well done, papa."

It was seldom that he felt he'd truly gained his son's pride and approval and he savoured the warm feeling in his chest all the way back to their little shack. They almost stumbled out, mumbling apologies, a second later, only to check and realize that, indeed, it was their home, only clean. Dust had been removed from every surface, and most of the threadbare furniture thoroughly polished. A fire was roaring in the hearth and sprigs of flowers and herbs hung from strategic places, filling the modest shack with a pleasant, sweet scent that chased away the old smell of livestock. Belle was dressed in another of her exotic outfits, this one less embellished and more practical, the cotton cloth still soft and lush to the touch. It was a lovely ochre colour that enhanced the luminescence of her skin and even without the pearls and most of the gold she looked beautiful and unreal.

"Hi Belle!" Bae almost knocked her down in his enthusiasm to greet her. Though wise beyond his years and mature enough to know to keep the genie a secret and stick to the routine he was still very much a little boy full of wonder and sadly starved for attention. None of the villagers consciously shunned him, he was too adorable for that, rather they didn't make an effort to prevent their treatment of Rumplestiltskin from affecting his son. As a result Bae had grown without much social contact, especially from adults.

"Hi, Bae." The boy had asked her to call him that, deeming it "silly" for her to call him "Master Baelfire". He proceeded to tell her about their day, going into detail about how a wondering neighbour's goat stole his cap and ate it. Belle seemed to think the story fascinating, laughing in all the right places and looking appropriately angry when Bae mentioned it was his favourite cap. Rumplestiltskin watched them from his seat at the spinning wheel, his dextrous fingers and feet going through the motions automatically.

He interrupted them only to shyly request supper from Belle, who seemed happy to comply. The stew she conjured up wasn't rich enough as he'd liked but their stomachs were still adjusting to having plenty to eat and it was delicious anyway. Both of the men made a concerted effort to copy Belle's exquisite mannerisms, so effortlessly graceful that it proved hopeless. But the grip she had on the spoon was easy enough to copy and slurping was simple to avoid.

When they were finished and everything cleared Rumplestiltskin presented his plan to Belle, Bae listening in and ready to chip in at any moment. She paid close attention, seeming surprised and pleased he'd seek her advice before making his wish. She helped him specify his intentions, warning him it was safer to constrain magic with details and clarity lest it find loopholes to exploit. Finally, long after Bae had fallen asleep, he made his wish. She smiled, oddly solemn, and gently touched the side of his face with her hand, a brief caress.

"It'll take me three days and three nights. I'll be back as soon as it's done."

Blue smoke swallowed her whole and by the time it dispersed she was gone.

They heard nothing of her during those three days and nights and, had Baelfire not insisted on talking about Belle every five minutes, he might have thought he'd dreamed her up. She'd also made sure to leave enough food to eat frugally, Bae getting the lion's share as his stomach slowly accustomed itself to getting four meals a day and plenty of meat.

Around the third afternoon people began to whisper about in the village. The red glow that could be ominously seen at a distance, where the battlefield was, weakened and then disappeared altogether. People talked amongst themselves, fearing the fight was moving and soon enough it'd reach them or that the troops had failed and the ogres had won. Only a few dared hope for a better outcome and only two knew what it really meant.

"It's over, papa."

Though Bae had never shown to doubt Belle he looked as if he could barely believe it. Bae had been a child of war, had grown up with the threat of it always nearby. Rumplestiltskin could hardly imagine how it felt to the child to abruptly experience peace.

"Let's go home, Bae, and wait for Belle."

He dragged the stunned lad home, fearful he'd blurt out something about the wish in his shock. Once alone the joy that he'd expected to feel unfurled inside him. He hugged his son close, ruffling his hair and swinging him about, pain no attention to his throbbing leg. Maybe once Belle was back he could wish for it to be mended, rid himself forever of a distasteful reminder of the war. It was over, he could finally stop looking over his shoulder. He'd stopped the war. Whatever he'd done in the past had surely been put to rights.

They dined on the rest of the food, neither very concerned about saving some just in case. Bae seemed intent on learning about the world outside of their village, something he'd never shown much interest for. Of course such a world had been, up until that afternoon, inaccessible to him. His father indulged him, talking of what he'd learned in his admittedly-short travels before becoming a soldier. The boy fought to stay awake past his bedtime, wanting to be there for when Belle returned to thank her properly for what she'd done but around ten his wee body had given up, succumbing to sleep. The spinner thought to take his place, working his wheel while he waited for the blue-eyed genie to appear but, sometime around midnight, his eyes grew too heavy and his body too exhausted. He dragged himself to his cot, thinking of resting his eyes for a moment and, before he knew it, he was deeply asleep.

He woke up sometime around three in the morning, the hut pitch-black and silent. At first he didn't know what had woken him. Everything seemed to be in its place, unperturbed. Then, after a few moments, he heard the tiniest hitch, a sharp but quiet intake of breath coming from nowhere near his son's pallet. Praying for the best but fearing the worst the spinner propped himself up, grabbing his staff from the floor to haul himself to a standing position. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness till they were able to spot movement near the hearth. A figure was huddled there, on the floor right beside the dying embers. A flash of gold around the figure's ankle alerted him to the fact that it was Belle. She was curled up on the floor, covered mostly by some sort of cloak, and seemed to be in pain.

He knelt beside her immediately, hissing as his ankle protested the move. When he touched her he was surprised to see she was burning up, almost scalding. He fumbled for a lamp, the only one with a bit of oil left, and lit it quickly, shouting out for Bae to wake up. The boy, to his credit, took in everything rather quickly, getting up and putting on his shoes to see how he could help. His father instructed him to go to the stream and fetch fresh water, urging him to be careful of strangers and marauders and to take Flint with him. The dog did not trust strangers at all and was a ferocious protector.

As Bae hurried out of the house Rumplestiltskin unwrapped the cloak from around the genie. In the dim light he could see her skin flushed red and her mouth parted, her breathing laboured. He called her name but she didn't seem to hear him or notice his presence, not even when he fumbled with the fabric of her garment to peel it off her body till only the most sensitive parts were covered, much like when he'd woken up in bed with her. There seemed to be nothing wrong with her, no strange insect bites or infected injuries, just a raging fever burning her up from within.

It took several trips for Bae to fill the copper tub they seldom used, a keepsake from one of his aunts who'd used it to dye fabric once upon a time. Once he managed to top it with water they submerged the half-clothed genie up to the neck, taking care to settle her to she wouldn't slip and drown, if it was possible. Restless and eager for something to do they both took turns bathing her forehead and face and talking to her, eager for any kind of reply. In the meantime they theorized about what could've happened, guessing some sort of ogre poison or magical malady.

They waved aside their chores for the day, neither willing to leave the genie alone even as the sounds of rejoice reached them. The village was up in an uproar, news of the end of the war spreading like wildfire. People celebrated on the streets, buried old grudges and shared what little they had amongst themselves. No one, however, noticed that they were missing, or that they failed to take the sheep out to pasture.

For three days and three nights they took turns carrying fresh water and tending to the genie. Bae even went as far as sneaking to a nearby mountain for a bit of ice, much to his father's overt anger and secret pride. Sometime during the third night after Bae, exhausted, had gone to sleep Belle stirred inside the tub, eyes fluttering open slowly. At first she didn't seem to register anything but, haltingly, as if it caused her great pain, she turned her head to stare at him. He'd forgotten how blue her eyes were and for a moment he was struck speechless by them.

"Hey."

She smiled at his inarticulate greeting, raising a hand from the water to perch it on the rim of the tub and push herself into a proper sitting position. He made sure to stare at her face at all times, conscious of her modesty, and offered her a glass of water which she accepted gratefully. She drank in slow, tiny sips, the action seeming to take a lot of effort. A thousand questions brewed inside his mind but he saw to her comfort first, asking her if she wished to leave the tub or if she wanted to eat something. She declined both offers, though she assured him she'd be much better in the morning.

"What happened?"

He'd held up as much as he could, but the question tumbled out of his mouth against his will. She bit her lip and looked away, gestures that he knew too well. Bae did the same when he was trying to find a way to lie and tell the truth at the same time. Gently but firmly he pressed his fingers against her jaw and turned her head back so she was looking at him, letting her know without words that he wished for the absolute truth.

"The price of the magic. It always demands payment, no matter the nature of the deed. I usually let the wisher pay the price but the wish was so unselfish and you and Bae so kind that… I couldn't."

She must have seen the horror reflected in his expression because she hastened to reassure him. She knew she'd survive the pain, that it'd be fleeting compared to whatever could happen to him or to Bae. She'd done it before, once or twice, and though it hadn't been as bad as that she'd been prepared.

"You knew this. That's why you looked so sad when we made the wish. You'd decided to…"

He wanted to berate her for being stupid, for doing such a foolish thing without telling them before, so they'd know not to ask for something so monumental.

"I couldn't do that. It was a good wish, probably the best I've ever granted. It needed to be fulfilled. It was the right thing to do."

She sounded at peace and happy with her decision and, above all, sure. He'd never had such confidence, so unwavering even if the face of extreme hardship. An envious trait, one he could see blossoming in Baelfire. One he knew did not reside in him.

But he was not without decency. The Ogre Wars were over and that was good enough. No need to ask for costly wishes again. His leg, for one, would have to stay as it was. Healing sounded like expensive magic. The food hadn't seemed to be a problem, and they'd have to explore how far they could push it while keeping it safe.

It took a week more for both the spinner and his son to be sure Belle was properly mended. Things were chaotic all around with the onset of sudden peace so their variations in routine went unnoticed. She insisted on providing food, which didn't seem to cost her any pain, and help around the house, mending clothes- her stitches were exquisite, if not a bit impractical- and keeping things in order. Once she was recuperated the three of them set out to find which types of wishes were relatively harmless and which were out of the question. It was an exercise in creativity, finding the perfect small wish that could potentially have a big impact, and the first experiments were tentative.

Food and clothing seemed relatively safe, as long as it wasn't overdone. Rumplestiltskin, stuttering like a schoolboy the entire time, pointed out that Belle might profit from wearing more common garb and, soon enough, she was clothed in a charming blue dress, simple but well-made- a bit too well-made for such a poor village, but the spinner had no heart to point it out. Though she couldn't change their own appearance overnight- people would get suspicious if they started to boast new, costly clothing- she did mend their worn garments beyond what was humanly possible, and cleaned them as best as she dared.

That left them with a lot of limitations regarding wishes, taking into account anything big was out of the question and anything remotely life-changing and, therefore, suspicious, was impossible too. It was Baelfire that came up with the idea of wishing for luck. A bit of it, so as to not endanger Belle, but enough that they could seize it and make the most of it. It was certainly a good idea, the kind of small change that could end up having a great impact if taken advantage of.

The bit of luck Belle conjured up for them in tendrils of dark blue magic came in the form of trade, which had been lacking for years. There was a sudden rise in the demand for all sorts of goods, including thread. In the village he'd had to compete with other spinners that, though inferior in their skills, weren't shunned cowards who no one would associate with and who were willing to sell their shoddier product at a cheaper price. Now, however, people from all around came to their market fair, people who didn't care about his past and could appreciate the excellence of his skill. Soon he was producing colourful, premium thread once more, buying wool from neighbouring farmers to keep up with demand, several traders making promises to buy thread from him at the big fair two towns over.

It was Bae's first glimpse out of the village and the boy couldn't contain his excitement. Belle seemed to share the boy's high spirits, packing diligently and talking to Bae about what she knew from the world outside. At first Rumplestiltskin had been worried about explaining the genie's presence to others but she'd been quick to reassure him.

"They won't notice me. No one does unless I want them to. It's a genie thing. I'm not invisible per se, but I'm… easily looked over."

He stared at her, wondering how people could see such beauty and dismiss it from their minds. He was having a hard time doing that. Belle slept on a nest of silks and damask near his own improved cot, swathed in thin, soft linen and there were nights where he didn't sleep at all, merely stared at her in wonder. Whenever he arrived to the cot after morning chores- afternoons were now dedicated solely to spinning- she'd greet him with a kiss and a hug, and fuss over him and Bae. During the afternoon she spent quite a bit of time outside, soaking in the sun and sometimes playing with Bae. She was teaching him how to read, the spinner having managed to barter for some paper and a bit of charcoal at the village, and the lad seemed to be making quick progress. Bae would have a better life, that was clear. The life he deserved.

Though she loved being out in the sun she'd often come back inside to check on him, making sure he wasn't working himself ragged or offering him tea or water. Sometimes, if he agreed to a break, she'd stay and talk with him. Others she convinced him to go outside and take a bit of air with Bae.

Needless to say by the time their first trip to the regional market fair came he was more than a bit smitten. Besotted was more like it, though no one could really fault him for it. Belle was not only the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen- with her creamy skin and big blue eyes- but also the kindest and the gentlest. She helped him load and unload his wares from the cart he'd managed to rent with the monies he'd made since the opening of the trade routes, and helped him haggle with merchants, most of which, though eager to get their hands on high-quality merchandise, were quick to try and swindle him. He was surprised how easily the dealing aspect of it all came to him, how fast he'd spot traps or sneaky loopholes. Outside of the village, with Belle by his side and Bae observing carefully to learn, he grew confident and sure, managing to deal with more aplomb than ever before. By the end of their four-day stay the wool and thread were gone and Rumplestiltskin had a purse full of coins and quite a few orders for the future.

With honest money the spinner and his son bought fabric for clothing and new shoes. Belle, lacking neither attire nor footwear, accepted a few coins for books, her giddiness adding a rosy colour to her cheeks that made her even more fetching than usual. As soon as they were home Rumple and Belle made good use of the newly-purchased fabric. He had skill for cutting patterns and tailoring, leftover knowledge from his aunts and a lifetime experience dressing himself and Bae. Belle, however, could sew the most interesting silhouettes and shapes, adding something impractical but altogether very valuable too. For the first time Bae would have clothes not only meant to keep him warm and covered, but also meant to be enjoyed. He'd help Belle with the patterns, displaying a talent for drawing Rumple had never been aware of.

Better clothes seemed to require better hygiene, which meant either a bath in the nearby stream or lugging buckets of water to the house. A simple wish, of a bucket that could carry ten times its size and weight the same as a normal full bucket, was small enough to be granted without much fuss, causing Belle a mild headache for a few days. Though the spinner wasn't fond of bathing- even though he liked how less pitiful and dirty he looked afterwards- Bae took to it with gusto, building paper boats and racing them in the confined space of the tub.

Afterwards Belle would towel his hair dry and comb it and once he was ready for bed they'd practice reading. Rumple would watch them, listening to the stories they spun and reminding himself constantly that they weren't mother and child. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he began to wish it, passionately, but now it was never far from his mind. To fall in love with Belle was inevitable, in retrospective. There was something magnetic about her, something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Perhaps it was the way she seemed to see past the rags and the filth and the lame leg and see a worthy man, a man full of potential and promise.

She was also very determined, not easily swayed by his shy refusals or any attempts to pull back. She was also incredibly tactile, always eager to kiss his cheek or finger-comb his hair. He hadn't noticed, until her, how starved for touch he was. The only one who ever hugged him was Bae and, as much as he was grateful for his son, it wasn't enough. At first it had been the touch of an outsider, someone not of his kin who didn't find him repelling or unworthy. Then it had changed to the warm touch of a friend, someone who cared for him. Almost immediately, however, it'd morphed into the touch of a woman, smooth and soft and utterly beguiling, touch he craved like nothing else. He hated himself for it, for turning something pure and innocent like the amicable love the genie felt for him into something carnal and debauched.

He did all he could to keep himself distracted during the day, to turn his mind away from certain thoughts, but they plagued him at night. Sometimes the dreams took a turn for the… exotic. He imagined her in lavish, embroidered silk and damask with gold dripping from her skin and precious gems glinting as she moved. The heavy scent of oils and incense would cling to her skin, heady and dizzying, as he kissed her, worshipping her like the humble peasant he was, unworthy of even one of her smiles. He imagined delicately stripping her bare and then divesting her of all her jewellery bit by bit as she lay in a nest of pillows, regal but warm.

Those dreams were intoxicating, but they paled in comparison to his most mundane fantasies. In them Belle called him "husband" and Bae called her "mother" and they shared a bed each night, soft caresses and fierce proclamations of love in the dark. She'd be his to kiss and touch in public and with her at his side he'd become the best version of himself he could be.

Those fantasies gave him both pleasure and pain and he tried to keep them out of his mind in the waking hours so Belle wouldn't suspect. It was difficult, though, when they were practically playing house together. It was a strange sort of existence the one they'd created and somehow he knew it wouldn't- couldn't- last.

When the rumours reached them they were vague enough not to cause much concern. People started talking about mysterious people travelling in the direction of the village in search of a strange, magical object capable of great feats. When Baelfire and his father first heard the talk on the village they tacitly decided to dismiss it and never mention it to Belle. She seemed so happy fixing up their home, teaching Bae and generally enjoying the freedom of being outside the cup, that to worry her for naught seemed silly.

One evening found the spinner finishing a colourful length of dark yellow yarn, Belle sitting next to him using a niddy noddy to make a skein when Baelfire suddenly burst into the little cottage, Flint in tow. He looked panicked and, immediately, Rumplestiltskin's forgotten anxiety flared back to life, old fears coming back to plague him. Had the war started again? Was someone there to take Bae? Or Belle?

"We have to go. There are people in the village, scary-looking people. They are asking everyone about a chipped cup."

The genie paled instantaneously, dropping the wooden tool she'd been using and turning her frightened blue eyes to her master. For an instant all he felt was paralysing terror. But seeing Belle tremble snapped him out. She was always so brave she deserved someone to be so for her. As calmly as he could he asked his son to elaborate, trying not to react as Bae told the whole story. People in black, foreign uniform, asking about how the Ogre Wars had ended and if anyone had seen a chipped cup with a blue pattern or if anyone was behaving in a suspicious manner.

"They'll end up here. They'll know. They'll take me away."

Belle seemed anguished but somehow resigned, looking ready to say goodbye and leave them, however reluctantly. She'd never given him any indication she disliked having him as a master. Most of the time it seemed easy enough to forget. Belle wasn't a servant, she was, if anything, a miracle, and his superior in every possible way. She'd given them so much, had turned their lives upside down and brought hope and joy. He wouldn't give her up, not so easily.

"Bae's right, we're going."


	2. Part Two

One evening found the spinner finishing a colourful length of dark yellow yarn, Belle sitting next to him using a niddy noddy to make a skein when Baelfire suddenly burst into the little cottage, Flint in tow. He looked panicked and, immediately, Rumplestiltskin's forgotten anxiety flared back to life, old fears coming back to plague him. Had the war started again? Was someone there to take Bae? Or Belle?

"We have to go. There are people in the village, scary-looking people. They are asking everyone about a chipped cup."

The genie paled instantaneously, dropping the wooden tool she'd been using and turning her frightened blue eyes to her master. For an instant all he felt was paralysing terror. But seeing Belle tremble snapped him out. She was always so brave she deserved someone to be so for her. As calmly as he could he asked his son to elaborate, trying not to react as Bae told the whole story. People in black, foreign uniform, asking about how the Ogre Wars had ended and if anyone had seen a chipped cup with a blue pattern or if anyone was behaving in a suspicious manner.

"They'll end up here. They'll know. They'll take me away."

Belle seemed anguished but somehow resigned. She'd never given him any indication she disliked having him as a master. Most of the time it seemed easy enough to forget. Belle wasn't a servant, she was, if anything, a miracle, and his superior in every possible way. She'd given them so much, had turned their lives upside down and brought hope and joy. He wouldn't give her up, not so easily.

"Bae's right, we're going."

She looked at him, confused, as if she hadn't expected them to fight for her. She watched them pack the bare necessities and put on sturdy boots and cloaks. It was only when Bae pressed her own cloak into her hands that she reacted at all.

"We'll head for the front lines. Most of the lands there are still deserted, and there are no reliable maps. We'll be safe."

Taking charge wasn't something Rumplestiltskin was familiar with but fear of losing Belle spurned him on, gave him the edge he needed. He shot down every attempt the genie made to protest, refusing to listen to her. Belle would try and be selfless and think about them and not herself and he didn't need that right then.

They found a rather unused path that would lead them where they wanted to go and they walked for as long as Bae was able to. Rumplestiltskin ended up half-carrying the lad at some point, Belle doing the same with Flint, whose missing leg made it difficult to endure long walks. They ended up stopping and setting camp on a cluster of trees near a stream, safe from view and as comfortable as possible. Belle conjured up a hot meal and they ate in silence before Bae practically fainted from exhaustion, his head and torso in Belle's lap and his feet atop his father's.

They made it to a nearby village the following day, spending an exorbitant amount of money for a small room and complete discretion. Though their situation was certainly more prosperous than it had ever been money was bound to become an issue soon. It was only two villages and two inns after that Rumple's grim prediction came true. Though they didn't need to purchase food the board alone had eaten at the spinner's meagre savings, most of the newfound wealth having found its way to the repair of their now abandoned home.

The bad weather made it impossible to sleep outside, not to mention dangerous, and having Belle conjure rooms for them seemed too risky. Surely such a thing would be noticed, not to mention costly magic. It was Bae the one to inspire Belle with a surprising comment that he wished straw was valuable, as it was everywhere, including the mattress he was lying on.

"You used to think it was gold when you were a wee lad. Under the light of a fire you'd sit and stare at piles of straw with your mouth wide open. I wish it were that simple, Bae, that I could just... turn straw into gold."

Belle smiled then, eyes alight with an idea. She took both of the spinner's hands in hers and closed her eyes, concentrating. Warm, blue magic ghosted over him, crawling up his and leaving his skin tingling. A second later she released him, almost falling off her chair when strength left her. Bae and Rumple barely caught her in time, the spinner cursing himself as he dragged her to one of the two beds in the room.

"What did you do? How bad will it be?"

She seemed to be in pain but it was nowhere near how bad it was months ago with the ogres, though she was restless and shaking. When she appeared to calm down, sometime around midnight, Rumplestiltskin sent his boy to bed, silencing any protest with a scolding look. Once he was sure the lad was sleeping he carefully roused Belle. As much as he hated to jolt her out of her uneasy sleep he had to know what she'd done to him.

"Belle... what did you do? You have to tell me."

She smiled hazily, as if she was still dreaming, and lifted a hand to pet his hair. She looked at him like no one ever had before and he had to fight the urge to crawl into bed with her and curl up beside her, sharing body heat.

"You can spin straw into gold. At night, though. It should be enough."

He let go of the wet cloth he was pressing gently against her forehead to stare at his hands, as rough and common as always. Ordinary hands, by any standard. They shook as he grabbed the spindle he'd packed, old and worn, and attempted to spin a bit of straw he took from the mattress. It was difficult to manipulate the straw so it'd bend but not break but after a few attempts he managed the gist to spin it. It came out as shimmery, solid gold, cool to the touch and very, very real. He stared at it for the longest time, unable to believe he'd actually turned straw into gold. It took a few more tries to convince him, but the process was draining and, soon enough, he felt too tired to stay up. Unwilling to leave Belle's side he settled down on the floor, leaning against the mattress, closing his eyes and letting himself drift off.

The magic Belle had performed allowed them the means to continue their journey. They stayed two more days at the inn to allow the genie to recover properly, and each night Rumplestiltskin took out his spindle and spun straw into gold. Bae had been fascinated by the bit of magic, testing the gold and watching avidly as his father worked. Bae had never before paid much attention to his father's craft, always with his head in other matters, so it was nice to bask in his child's admiration and approval.

They moved on, heading always in the direction of the former battle grounds, watching as towns and people became scarce. On the last stop before they reached their destination they bought enough supplies to comfortably sleep outside, but didn't linger too long, the gossip about the chipped cup having reached them even there.

Once they reached the lands formerly occupied by the ogres they allowed themselves to relax. Though the memory of the war itself made Rumplestiltskin uncomfortable he tried not to show it to Bae, who found the foreign land, ravaged by war, terribly exciting. They wondered around for a bit, looking for some form of shelter. The weather was taking a turn for the worse again and sleeping outside was no longer an option. The wind picked up as the skies darkened, warning of a terrible storm to come.

"I know of a safe place nearby, but we won't make it on foot. A transportation spell is no costly magic."

The spinner shook his head at the genie, remembering watching her curled up on the floor of his shack, trembling and in pain. It wasn't worth it to risk it, risk her. They would make it somehow. But eventually, when Bae started shaking really bad, his lips tinted with the barest hint of blue, he had to relent, allowing Belle's smoke to wrap around them. He felt weightless for a moment, as if suspended in mid-air, and a second later he was touching firm stone floor with his scuffed boots, safe and sound, albeit still wet and more than a bit chilly. He barely had time to glance around the room before Belle swayed precariously beside him, his free arm wrapping around her waist to support her. As gently as he could he lowered her to the floor, instructing Bae to remove his sodden cloak and help with Belle's. The room they were in was a bedroom of sorts, once belonging to nobility for sure, given its dimensions, the ornate tapestries on the walls and the expensive furnishings, but everything was coated in layers of dust, as if the room had been abandoned for ages.

He gently coaxed a woozy Belle into the bed after shaking out the covers. With more than a hint of a blush he helped her out of her gown and corset, thankful for the cover of the heavy blankets once the genie was down to her chemise. When he glanced around he noticed Bae was gone, but had little time to panic before his boy appeared again, hauling some wood that looked to be bits and pieces from chairs. Using flint and a small knife the spinner managed to build a small fire in the ornate fireplace. They slept on the bed, Bae curled up next to Belle and Rumple on the other side, and though the morning was as rainy and awful as the night had been they were all in better spirits. Rested and fed Baelfire wanted nothing more than to explore the place, which turned out to be a castle, and no amount of cajoling from his father would deter him, and him taking Flint contributed little to ease his father's mind. It was an old but lavish place, seemingly undisturbed by the Ogre Wars and completely deserted. The grounds needed tending, and it looked like the nearby lands were also deserted, cottages perfectly preserved but completely unoccupied. It was a strange place, the spinner quickly asserted.

An enchanted place.

The soil seemed fertile enough, as the blue-green grass and the voluminous plant-life testified. It was in stark contrast with the rest of the battle grounds, rendered barren and deserted by years of fighting. Something had protected these lands long after its people had fled or died. The spinner just hoped the magic wouldn't try to protect the castle from them.

It was Bae the one to crack the mystery that surrounded the place in the most unexpected way. They were in the room they had first appeared in, dining on conjured-up food. The rest of the castle was too big and too cold and dirty to deal with, but certain key areas, including the room, had been thoroughly cleaned and were kept constantly warm, the clear skies after the storm allowing the spinner and his son to look for firewood and stack up quite a reserve in the kitchens.

Bae was stuffing his face full of carrot cake- a new favourite- when suddenly asked Belle, mouth half-full still, an unintelligible question. After a scolding from his father and a hasty swallow he spoke again.

"What were you when you lived here, Belle? A princess? A duchess?"

The genie dropped her fork, the metal clattering against the porcelain of the dish where her half-eaten cake lay. Rumplestiltskin, at first ready to dismiss Bae's strange question as a child's flight of fancy, reconsidered when he saw the look in Belle's face, as if she'd been caught in a lie.

"This was your castle?" It sounded slightly accusatory, though it made no sense. The spinner had never asked her about her past life, sensing some deep sadness lurked there. He had, however, imagines she'd been a genie since birth, albeit a high-ranking one. He hadn't dared to imagine some other life. He'd been more than happy to concentrate on the present, on how Belle was now a part of their family, no matter what she'd been before.

"It was my home, once upon a time. I was Sir Maurice's only daughter, my papa's pride and joy. He was a merchant lord in charge of the village you see deserted nearby. Everyone liked my father, he was fair, jovial and merciful. And he loved me to perdition."

There was a melancholic note to her voice, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to change the subject, lead her away from painful memories. But Belle looked like she wanted to tell her story, and he was dying to know it.

"My mother died shortly after I was born so I became the centre of my father's existence, along with the town, of course. He was strict but caring and raised me to be independent, to decide my own fate. I was lucky to have all the freedom growing up to pursue things that interested me and, once I grew older, he didn't pressure me into marriage. He was determined that it be my choice, that I decide my own fate." Her smile was a tad sad but also very affectionate. It was clear Maurice had been an excellent father and was very much missed. "Once I reached eighteen the suitors began arriving, and though he'd receive them and offer them hospitality he'd never pressure me to entertain them or consider any of them. Over the years it became something of a challenge, the rumours of a stubborn lady that would refuse to get married reaching far-off kingdoms. My father would tease me, we'd joke about it. But then, one day, a man came to discuss trade with my father, perfumes from his native land of Agrabbah in exchange for furs.

"I disliked him from the start. Though handsome there was a slippery, oily quality to him, something in the way he smiled and how he... leered at me. He overstayed his welcome, concocting up all manner of ruses to be in my presence. It became uncomfortable and so when he finally proposed during a lavish dinner my father was throwing and I refused him rather forcefully. I told him what I thought of him: that he was power-hungry and cruel and that his heart was rotten to the core. In retrospective I was wrong to turn him down so publicly but he'd worn me down.

"He did not take it well. Suddenly all his smarmy charm and polite facade was gone and he revealed his true colours. He told me that I'd humiliated him and that for that I'd pay. Said all men were like him, power-hungry and vile and he'd show me. He took out a small red stone that glowed with magic and with it he summoned a creature unlike any I'd ever seen. The creature was a genie under his command, whom he tried to force into making me love him. The genie couldn't do that however... Magic doesn't work that way. Won't bring back the dead either. Even more bitter the man ordered the genie to turn me into the unhappiest creature on Earth... and he made me a genie."

At this point Bae frowned, clearly finding fault with the last part of her story.

"I don't get it. Genies are powerful! And you're a great genie, Belle! You've done amazing things. How is that bad?"

Belle's smile was sad, but she tried to conceal it from Baelfire.

"Genies don't have a lot of freedom. We live to serve our masters, our will is not our own. I'd usually be restricted to my cup, only allowed out to grant someone's wish. I was forced to make horrible things happen. I had all this power and couldn't use it for anything good. I was chained to whoever had the cup, never able to decide my fate at all."

She stopped when she noticed the child was on the verge of crying, a look of devastation on his face.

"So you haven't been happy with us? Because papa is your master and you can't do what you want?"

She was quick to gather the upset child in her arms, kissing his forehead and combing his unruly hair.

"Don't be silly, Bae. Your papa and you are the best things to happen to me since I was cursed. You made me a part of your family, treated me like a person from the start. You've shared your lives with me and given me as much freedom as I could ever possibly have as a genie. I haven't felt this happy in decades."

As she told him this she stroke his hair and back, but her eyes were fixed on the spinner, willing him to see the truth in her words. There were times where Belle could almost forget she was cursed and no longer human. Times where she'd dream of things she knew could never have, shy courtships and tentative intimacies her body had never and would never know. And though it was silly and a bit foolish on her part it was more than she'd ever had before as a genie.

It was enough.

"And there's no way to free you?"

Bae's voice was small and determined as he burrowed closer to Belle, seeking her warmth. She kissed the top of his head, wrapping her arms more tightly around the boy.

"None that I know of. Sometime after I was cursed I journeyed to the Orient, to Aggrabah, birth place of genies, and tried to look for a way out, meeting with several of my kind who were very informative. The genie who cursed me, sadly, was very powerful. There are few things out there that could rival him. But it's alright, Bae, I don't mind. I'm happy, I promise."

The small boy smiled then, yawning as his eyes drooped.

"I'm glad he turned you into a genie, then. We wouldn't have met you if he hadn't."

Rumplestiltskin thought about scolding his son, about telling him not to say such awful things, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. Deep down, as ashamed as it made him, he agreed with Bae.

After a few weeks of hiding they decided to reinforce the castle, at first by themselves and then employing a few men from a nearby village using Rumplestiltskin's golden thread. The concocted up a story about the land belonging to a nobleman who spent his time at court and had sent Rumplestiltskin to oversee some maintenance work on the structure. When nothing bad came from letting a few men into their new home they dared contemplate the possibility of populating the deserted town. The cottages were in good condition, the soil was ideal for planting and it was easy to imagine the vast amount of refugees looking for a home that the war might have left on its wake.

Rumplestiltskin took to inspecting the town in the morning, sometimes with Belle and Bae and other times alone, making calculations as to the number of people that could comfortably live in the village and taking stock of the supplies inside, including farming equipment. There was quite enough to start over, with a little help from his night-time spinning, and the thought of helping those whose lives had been forever changed by the Ogre War set his remaining demons free. A slow, warm feeling crept slowly over him, contentment and fulfilment he hadn't felt since he'd first held Baelfire in his arms.

It helped that Belle and Bae seemed happy as well. Belle was slowly taking care of transforming the interior of the castle not with magic but with hard labour. She scrubbed, mopped and dusted every inch of it, a slow, arduous job she seemed to enjoy immensely. Bae was her faithful little helper, enjoying the stories she'd tell him about certain rooms and objects as they cleaned them. She'd teach him history, geography and arithmetic as they went about their chores, weaving a bit of education into the stories and games she played with the boy. Bae's mind was like a sponge eager to soak up knowledge, and he was quick and clever, a fine little student.

It was decided then that, as soon as the castle was fully repaired and conditioned, they'd start spreading the rumour of a nobleman with a depleted village in desperate need of people to populate it and work the nearby lands. It'd be nice, after months of isolation, to be near people again, and help those brought low by war without the need of magic.

They still slept in the same room, Belle's old room. Bae was not used to sleeping without his father so they moved an extra bed in for him and another for his father, both agreeing that Belle should have her old bed, the largest one in the room. Rumplestiltskin, wordlessly, had decided to command the bed closest to Belle's and still found himself watching her sleep on nights where rest eluded him. Sometimes, however, he'd go to his spinning wheel, which he'd allowed Belle to bring over and place on one of the castle's towers, and spin his thoughts away, more to have something to occupy his hands with than to produce more gold. If he was really lucky sometime around midnight Belle would join him, wordlessly making skeins with the newly-spun gold. It was a strange, intimate time for both of them, but neither commented on it.

They were almost ready to open their new home to people when, once more, the rumours of a chipped cup and an army of black-clad, frightening soldiers that sought it. The nearby town soon was ablaze with stories of their cruelty and violence, of the destruction they left in their wake. Though both father and son tacitly agreed at first to keep the news from the genie it was impossible to do so for long. It was Bae who dropped the ball and made an unfortunate comment while they had supper, quickly trying to backpedal when he realized what he'd done. He was close to tears as he apologized to his father, who tried to look reassuring as he calmed the boy down.

There was no confrontation right away, but the spinner knew better than to suspect nothing would come from Baelfire's accidental revelation. The genie found him later that night, spinning straw into gold with single-minded concentration. Though he sensed her enter the room he didn't acknowledged her at first, hoping that if he didn't do so he'd be able to avoid the inevitable confrontation. It was hopeless, however, and so when she spoke his name he turned around. She was back in one of her exotic attires, draped in luxurious blue silk with gold trimming and intricate beading.

"You need to let me go, Rumple."

The affectionate pet name she'd given him didn't produce the warm, slippery feeling it usually did. The only thing Rumplestiltskin could focus on was the fact that Belle was telling him they had to be parted.

"I need to do no such thing. Don't be silly, Belle, we're safe h-"

"No, we're not. There's no way whoever is after us could've followed us here except with magic. Genie vessels can be traced magically and sooner or later those black soldiers will be at our doors."

He stood up, leaning lightly on his staff. He was angry but he tried to push the emotion down, wanting to be rational and calm. He needed to convince Belle to stay, after all.

"We could run again, be on the move constantly. Bae would love exploring the land and, eventually, whoever is chasing us would just give up, I'm sure."

She shook her head emphatically and he noticed she'd woven some of his gold thread into her hair.

"No, you can't uproot Bae again. He's a small child, he needs stability. You can't drag him across kingdoms hoping that eventually people will stop coming after me. People with this kind of magic, Rumple... They don't give up. Wish the cup to be on the bottom of the farthest ocean, you'll be safe that way, and so will I."

He saw right through her, of course. She was trying to spin the facts so it would seem selfish not to let her go when it was the best for her but Rumplestiltskin knew it wasn't. Knew it in his bones. Belle belonged with Bae and him, they were a family. Not the most conventional, and not in the way he wished for more than anything, but a family nevertheless.

The best thing to ever happen to him.

"No. If I do that you'll be back in forced sleep, alone and trapped inside your cup, which you hate. It's not the best for you so stop lying." It came out more forceful than he meant and for a second he wanted to apologize but he held his ground. He had to be strong, to be firm. "The best alternative would be to stay and see if we can hide, somehow. Or fight."

It was the first time in his life he chose to confront something instead of running away and though his stomach felt queasy and his knees trembled he liked how he felt, empowered and... brave. Belle, however, didn't look quite ready to give up or back down at all.

"You can't place Bae in danger. Those men... they'll hurt him. And you. If they have magic powerful enough to track my cup down I doubt there's anything I could do to protect this castle for long. You're being stubborn and irrational and unfair to Bae, who deserves to know peace, to be safe. They'll storm the castle eventually, hurt you and Bae and take me."

"Not if they can't find you, they won't. If the alternative is to run, then we run. As long as it's necessary, as far as it takes."

His words seemed to frustrate the genie to no end. Belle looked as if she was contemplating striking him but she seemed to think better of it. She seemed to deflate, and suddenly looked tired, fragile. Rumplestiltskin took a few steps in her direction, stopping short of crashing into her. The need to touch her, to grasp her and make sure she wouldn't vanish, leaving him the same sudden way she came into his life, was almost overwhelming.

"I never told you my father was my first master." This shocked him enough to distract him from his unwelcomed urges, his whole attention now on Belle's words. "He took the cup to protect me, knowing people would come for me and my power. He tried for years to get the curse lifted, talked to the king who even asked the fairy godmother appointed to his family to look in on the case to no avail. He had me weave the protection spell that still surrounds the castle and the village so I'd be safe. I didn't know about the price of magic, I was ignorant of it and so my uncle died, quite suddenly. After that we were careful, and for years we were... happy. And then he started to age, while I stayed the same, stagnant. I watched him die, his last thoughts worried ones, wondering what'd become of me."

She'd turned her gaze away from him as she'd talked about her father but when she finished she turned her gaze back to him and he saw she was crying, tears silently making their way down her cheeks leaving faint wet trails. Rumplestiltskin instantly felt like some sort of monster for making her cry and he raised the hand not clutching his staff, ready to wipe her tears away. Seeing her shy away from his touch killed him.

"Even if we run away, even if we evade whoever is looking for me and manage to find save haven it doesn't change the fact that if I stay with you I'll eventually watch you die. And Bae too, and Bae's children and his children's children. And I can't. As wonderful as it's been to know you and be a part of your family I can't keep ignoring the fact that staying with you would hurt me more than parting with you now."

He felt the need to recoil from her and crush her to him at the same time. He hated her for telling him this, for making him feel guilty about his wish to keep her with him for the rest of his life. For showing him that he couldn't give her happiness no matter how much he tried. There was no ignoring this conversation or the fact that if he chose to fight to keep Belle with them he'd knowingly cause her pain.

"What am I supposed to do? Cast you out?"

He spat out the words like an accusation and Belle flinched before recovering.

"Things are good for you now, Rumple. You don't need me anymore."

"I'll always need you!"

She didn't understand. He couldn't imagine happiness without Belle to help him be the best version of himself, to be brave and warm and kind when he was doubting himself. And he was glad. He didn't want to stop needing her.

"I need you now."

He was clumsy in the way he snagged her by the waist, his hand shaking as it settled against the luxurious fabric draped around her form, his calloused hands rough on the beading as he pulled her close, bending his head down to catch her parted lips with his. It had been years since he'd kissed someone, and much longer since there had been any love involved, but he struggled to let instinct take over and lead him. She felt stiff against him but made no motion to pull away, not even when he tilted his head to the side and the new angle allowed him to kiss her more firmly. At first he kept the gesture chaste, allowing her to get used to the feeling of his mouth flush against hers, her bottom lip caught between both of his. It wasn't until she curled her hands around his neck and pulled him closer that he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips till she opened up for him.

He had to clench his right hand tight around his staff to keep himself upright. Belle was... succulent. He eagerly explored her mouth, tasting vanilla and caramel and things he'd never tasted before. She made a small, whimpery sound caught between a moan and a sigh and he replied with a choked keen of his own, the hand at her back fisting on the fabric of her garment, wishing that instead of beaded silk he was touching smooth, soft skin. He kept his motions slow, languid, careful not to frighten or pressure her.

Her own tongue caught him by surprise, her shy explorations an incredible aphrodisiac. Her nails scratched the nape of his neck all the way to the beginning of his scalp, sending pleasant little jolts through him. He felt something else building, something burning in the vicinity of his heart, a sort of strange energy that travelled to his lips and then was released, almost knocking both of them down. He pulled back then, his eyes catching sight of her swollen mouth, eliciting a squeak-ish little sound from him. It took him a while to look past the evidence of their kiss but when he did he noticed that something was odd about Belle. Her skin had lost the golden tone that had always been there and she looked... smaller, almost. And more beautiful. Her eyes were closed so he felt it was safe to look her over, trying to process the change, find its origin.

"I feel strange."

She leaned against him, her forehead pressed against his chest and as he struggled to keep them both upright his mind connected the dots with tentative hope. Belle looked... human. He blurted it out without thinking and she startled, pushing him away slightly to be able to gaze at her arms and her collarbone, bared by her outfit. Then she glanced up at him, looking scared and excited at once.

"Wish for something. Anything."

He wished for the first thing that came to mind: a piece of strawberry tart, his favourite dessert as a child. Belle seemed to concentrate but, after a few moments, the expected sweet did not materialize anywhere in the room.

"I'm human."

At first she said it cautiously, as if afraid saying it would make it not be true. But as reality sunk in and she remained the same elation began to bloom in her face. She hugged Rumplestiltskin close, pressing her forehead against the side of his neck till he felts tears run down his throat. He pulled her close, hating to feel her trembling even though he knew it was from happiness and not sadness.

"How?"

The question slipped out of his lips before he could prevent it and he wished to take it back immediately, afraid he'd ruin the moment. Belle once more pulled back from him, the glimmer of an answer in her eyes.

"I think... I think I know. There's only one magic more powerful than my curse." She bit her lip, seemed to consider something and then come to a conclusion. "True love's kiss can break any curse."

For a moment he wished to deny it. After all True Love was royals and nobles, not for lame spinners unfit to even hold the attention of their spouses. But, then again, such spinners also didn't deserve beautiful genies ready to fix their lives, bond with their children and kiss their masters. Nothing about his situation made sense but it didn't make it any less real.

She kissed him again, sloppy in her eagerness and inexperience but exuberant and daring at the same time and he submitted fully to her, not pausing to separate himself from her even when they fell rather gracelessly to the floor. It was an hour spend kissing and touching and skirting the edge between chaste and something more and talked about what it meant. The cup was no longer a genie vessel so there was no danger coming for them. And as far as her spells went, the magic protection around the castle was still up, since Belle could hear it "humming". She theorized strong spells would hold while weaker ones would be undone which, all in all, seemed to be ideal.

They waited until morning to tell Bae, unwilling to wake him up in the middle of the night. The boy, to no one's surprise, understood the ramifications of Belle's human status immediately. A human Belle they could keep forever and be a family for real. Most of the day was spent with the former genie adapting to her human physiology, from hunger pains to dressing herself. Rumplestiltskin spent ten agonizing minutes carefully lacing her into her favourite blue dress, his hands shaking the entire time. Bae, however, commanded most of her attention, asking questions and making sure she didn't tire herself out.

For the first time in months food became a concern, and a trip to the nearest town was unavoidable. Without the fear of being hunted and the novelty of people being able to register Belle's presence the trip was rather remarkable. No matter the simplicity of the dress everyone treated Belle as if they recognized her as nobility, bowing and calling her "m'lady". Bae was happy to act as her small protector, as wary of her newfound mortality as he was happy for it.

They didn't discuss the issue of True Love's kiss at all, but during the following days Belle would sometimes sneak up on him and give him heart-stopping kisses, picking up the skill with ease and being bold for the both of them. They had enough spun gold to see them through the remaining reparations and the re-population of the village. They were discussing purchasing seeds to offer to new settlers when soldiers arrived on their doorstep, their uniforms silver instead of the dreaded black, with white cloaks and a white and red coat of arms emblazoned on their chests. Though Rumplestiltskin's first instinct was to take Bae and Belle and hide somewhere in the castle the fact that the soldier's had passed through the protective barrier without problems indicated that they couldn't be there with harmful intentions.

The moment Belle saw them her eyes lit up in recognition.

"I remember that crest! It was King Edward's when my father lived. They must have been sent here by his descendant."

Though it didn't necessarily mean they should welcome them Belle did so at once, the role of mistress of the castle coming naturally to her, to the point where the spinner had to fight not to behave like a servant even though Belle clearly didn't want him to. She insisted on making the tea and serving it, Bae helping her and silently gawking at the armed men. Finally, when they were fed and settled, she enquired after what brought them there. It was then that the leader of the men presented her with a rolled-up parchment, a proclamation reinstating Belle to the succession of her family's title, lost after her father's death and making her the rightful owner of the castle and the lands beyond. It seemed that good King Edward, distraught about his friend's plight at his inability to help, had decided to help the only way he could: by keeping Maurice's lands under control of the crown with the stipulation that, should Sir Maurice's daughter ever be uncursed, both title and lands would be restored to her as rightful heir.

"The Gold Fairy visited our liege King Charles to tell him of the good news days ago, and he sent us at once to tell you, Milady. He hopes you'll agree to visit him as soon as you're settled to introduce you to the court properly. The secret of your curse will not be made public to spare you the... attention, of course."

They stayed for the night and left at dawn to carry the news of Lady Belle's happiness to the King. The visit did much to lift the former genie's spirits but, unbeknown to her, it planted the seed of doubt in the spinner's heart. In the excitement of having Belle human it had completely slipped his mind the fact that she was nobility and, as such, so far above him he could hope for little more than they had now. Soon, he knew, people would come, and their home would be filled with servants, lords and merchants and Rumplestiltskin would have no excuse to remain at Belle's side.

He'd take a cottage, he decided. The closest one to the castle. He'd settle there and continue with his trade and Bae would be able to go to Belle's home for schooling and the like. He'd grow up something other than a spinner or a shepherd, something important. And he'd watch the two people he loved flourish and prosper. It'd be enough.

He knew it was better to do things quickly before people started to reach their land. He made sure Bae was occupied reading a book, an activity he took very seriously since Belle usually quizzed him in the evening, and found Belle carefully reviewing a ledger with their recent purchases. She greeted him with a smile and a deep, long kiss that he was powerless to stop. When she stepped away he tried not to dwell in the fact that, probably, that had been their last kiss. She sat in a nearby loveseat, beckoning him to join her there. When he sat down on a chair instead her smile vanished.

"What's wrong?"

He tried not to fidget, but making eye-contact was beyond him.

"N-n-nothing's wrong. I just thought... I thought this be a good time for Bae and I to move. I... I've found a wonderful cottage and of course I'd still help you with everything that remains to be done before I resume my craft, won't get sheep for while in any case..."

He rambled on and on, outlining his plan and repeating himself over and over. By the time he was done he was sure he had explained himself fully and that Belle would approve of his plan. When he finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye, however, he was surprised to notice she looked angry. Furious even, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glittering. She looked beautiful but also dangerous and he fought the urge to make himself small like he used to do when Milah got into one of her moods. No matter how angry Belle would never hurt him, he was sure.

"You're not leaving."

He didn't expect those to be her first words, nor for them to have such an air of finality. For a moment he was stumped, unable to process how to respond to her statement. Thankfully, however, Belle didn't seem to have that same problem.

"Why would even think about leaving? For the first time in months no one's chasing after us, the reparations are almost complete and I'm human. It's never going to get any better than this. Why would you go and leave me?"

He became irrationally angry himself at that. It wasn't nice or fair for Belle to ask him to spell it all out, to be the practical one and make the tough decision. The irony was, for one, completely lost on him. He began to shout each and every single one of his arguments, from her noble birth and recent re-entitlement to his own obscure origins and shady past. It hurt to openly acknowledge the many things that separated them but he did it anyway, throwing each fact on her face with relish. By the time he was done he felt a bit better but Belle wasn't looking terribly impressed.

"The genie who cursed me was so powerful other genies I met trembled at the mere sound of his name. I searched the world for decades looking for anything that might challenge that power. I met incredible beings and found the most powerful objects but none could ever even come close to matching the magic that had cursed me. And one kiss... one kiss from you turns out to be enough. More than enough. And you think it means nothing? That it doesn't proof you're not only my equal in every way but also my match?"

She sounded so confident that he wanted to immediately apologize for even thinking of moving but he still didn't understand what she propose they do and, timidly, voiced his doubt.

"Get married, of course. I'll keep the accounts and establish relations with the other nobles and merchants. I think it'd be wonderful to establish trade routes and agreements with the Far Orient, since no one's done that. And you can keep supervising the village. You're quite adept at anticipating the future tenant's needs and problems. You understand this people, understand what it takes to work the land, to make it prosper. And you seem to enjoy it so." She smiled, pride filling her eyes as she looked at him. Her hand cupped his cheek, stroking his light stubble. "We'll raise Bae here, let him choose his path. If he wants he can inherit the land, or be a merchant or an explorer. And... we can have other children. I'd like that very much, actually."

The picture she painted sounded like a dream come true and for the first time in his life Rumplestiltskin became aware that nothing was standing between him and that dream except for his own insecurities. Belle was offering him everything and all he had to do was take it. He managed to small, a tremulous gesture, and take both of his True Love's hands in his. Such a small gesture, yet so empowering. He was done cowering, done feeling sorry for himself and done running away from life. This, he realized, was the best version of himself.

Brave, at last. And content.

It was then that, ironically, Belle seemed to deflate, doubt creeping up on her. She bit her lip and looked at him with uncertainty, trying to gauge him out.

"I mean... if you wish it."

He nodded, gathering her close and bending his head so his mouth brushed hers.

"Fervently."


End file.
